Welcome back, Denise. Why did you become an author? I
sensed the call to write ever since I was in middle school and the trips I made
with my parents to historic sites inspired stories in spiral-bound notebooks. I
knew this was how God had gifted me—absorbing details, nuances of character,
and blending them using right-brain creativity with left-brain research and
organization. Being an author allows me to bring the past alive and His love
and healing to readers through story form. Being an editor also allows me to
help others hone the same skills.
If you weren’t an author, what would be your dream job? I
very nearly went into historic preservation and restoration. Old homes and
buildings tell such fascinating tales, just like books.
If you could have lived at another time in history, what
would it be and why? I find American history fascinating during the years
the nation was gaining independence and expanding, especially along the Eastern
frontier. That time through the Civil War resonates most with me, although I
also enjoy later periods of history as well. There would be something to be
said for living in the Edwardian era through WWII when the old ways and manners
were still practiced but some modern conveniences were to be had.
What place in the United States have you not visited that
you would like to? The Grand Canyon and a snowy resort and Christmas town
in Colorado.
How about a foreign country you hope to visit? I
don’t see any international travel coming in my near future, but my top picks
would be Scotland, Switzerland, or a return to Italy or Spain.
What lesson has the Lord taught you recently? My life
has changed so much and there have been so many lessons in the last year, I
couldn’t begin to name them all. But through it all, the biggest lesson is that
He’s faithful.
That is so, so true in my life, too. Please tell us about
the featured book? The death of her titled husband means that not only is
Tabitha Gage no longer a lady—but she’s also abandoned on an isolated Southern
Georgia plantation on the eve of revolution. With the fine house and fields
sold to a neighbor, she’s left with a log cabin on unsettled timber land. Rather
than marry the neighbor’s son, Tabitha determines to make her own way—and never
again be shackled to a man she doesn’t love.
Please give us the first page of the book.
Early February, 1777
The morning she awoke at home after the funeral of her
husband, Lady Tabitha Gage opened her eyes to bright winter sunlight and
shuddered—with relief. She was free.
But a lady no longer.
Terror quickly replaced the relief.
Free, yes, but also alone on a thousand-acre South Georgia rice plantation.
Across the Altamaha River, Creek and Seminole Indians roamed the no-man’s land
of tangled swamps and bogs, allied to the British who held East Florida. Lord
Riley’s allegiance to the Crown had not excluded his cattle from being raided.
Should an invasion come, it would not protect this plantation,
either—especially now he was gone. After Henry’s name appeared on the St.
Andrews Parochial Committee’s list of twenty-nine suspected Tories last autumn,
River’s Bend was equally susceptible to Patriot retribution.
And yet it was to River’s Bend
Tabitha had returned—fled, more like—the day after she’d seen Henry laid to
rest in the Christ Church burying ground. Keeping up appearances in Savannah
had required more fortitude—and fortune—than she possessed now. Not to mention,
her twin, Temperance, was too apt to see past Tabitha’s façade. And their
father, too apt to pull her back under his control.
Tabitha sat up but clutched the
covers beneath her chin, not yet ready to relinquish their warmth for the chill
of the January morning. Maybe she could stay here all day.
When she’d first set eyes on her
new husband’s country house, she’d cried. The white frame home with its two
tiers of piazzas and saltbox-style extension in the rear set among the live
oaks and palms appeared so parochial in comparison to his elegant brick
Savannah residence. What a little fool she’d been. Her upstairs room with its
twelve-foot ceilings, walnut furniture, and tapestry curtains and counterpane
had since become her refuge. Lord Riley had sought her out here less and less frequently
as his hope for an heir dwindled over the eleven years of their marriage.
And now the burden of that
expectation was gone, along with the silent judgment of the man who’d imposed
it. She knew not whether to stretch her shoulders with the relinquishment or
continue to cringe under the accusation she’d come to expect. Her own head
supplied it in the absence of Henry’s voice. What kind of wife was she to not
mourn her husband?
Buy link:
https://www.amazon.com/Calculated-Betrothal-Scouts-Georgia-Frontier-ebook/dp/B0D577ZJ1B/
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